Dawn
It’s dawn. From my bed, the sky is a gradient of orange and blue. Orange grows to an intense amber, and blue fades into light. Silhouette of trees turns into the full bloom of day.
Memoirs and songs.
It’s dawn. From my bed, the sky is a gradient of orange and blue. Orange grows to an intense amber, and blue fades into light. Silhouette of trees turns into the full bloom of day.
The hissing of pumped air, the sweet putrid aroma of alcohol and kerosene, the spark of the red-tipped match that started it all, and the beginning of night in a far-flung village detached from the gallows of city lights.